


Live, Laugh, Love

by LordOfThePoptarts



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Some angst, bad gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfThePoptarts/pseuds/LordOfThePoptarts
Summary: Hanzo and McCree are hopelessly in love.There's just one problem, both are too terrified to make the first move.This is a how a squirrel, a broken shot glass, and a dad joke t-shirt gets them together.





	Live, Laugh, Love

  


McCree blinked, confused at the package laid neatly on his bed. It was wrapped up rather elegantly in what was clearly some leftover wrapping paper from Christmas, D.va’s brand if he had to guess by the little pink bunnies all over it. He remembered commenting how much he liked it when they’d been unwrapping presents earlier that week. He ran his hand over the ribbon that adorned the package. It was a one of those nice ribbons you saw at craft stores that had the best texture, this one was akin to silk, but always cost a fortune despite being something you’d barely use. This was clearly not a leftover. McCree knew he would’ve remembered seeing something of this quality during the gift exchange. If a present had a bow it was one of those cheap stick on ones that you got at the dollar store. The ones you would stick on top of your dogs head, or in this case the head of a sentient gorilla.

McCree slowly turned the box over, checking to make sure there wasn’t any identifying markers of the sender. He thought it might have been a gift someone had forgot to give him during the holidays, but there seemed to be no such luck. There were no clues as to who left it there, not even an accompanying note. He carefully unwrapped the ribbon, laying it on his bed beside the gift. He promised himself he’d tuck it away in storage for the next year. He was far less careful with the wrapping paper, tearing it open as normal, revealing a plain cardboard box. Frowning, McCree broke open the tape on the box and peered inside, and promptly slammed it shut because he was laughing so hard.

Inside the box was a small taxidermy mount of a squirrel, which by itself would’ve been odd and an altogether off brand gift choice, except this squirrel was wearing a very small cowboy hat, holster, and was posed to be holding a gun in a duel position. Still laughing, he grabbed the squirrel and proudly placed it on his bookshelf to display. He stepped back and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. The team had slowly been developing a novelty cowboy item collection for him, and this had to be the best thing in it by a wide margin. While he wasn’t one to seek out items like this for himself, it was nice to accept the little knick knacks the team would sometimes return with on missions. It was an easy way to show care and thoughtfulness for teammates when you were never sure if you’d make it back from a mission. McCree returned the sentiment in kind and often picked up little things that reminded him of his teammates, the most recent being a small fidget for Satya after a particularly rough mission where she had experienced a sensory overload on the ORCA.

McCree returned to the box, moving some of the protective packaging, to check for any letter or note again that might have been buried, but his search was once again fruitless. He sighed and looked back at the stupid squirrel with an involuntary smile on his face. Well, trying to find the gift giver would at least give him a chance to show it off he supposed. Just when he was resigned to asking everyone around the watchpoint for clues, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, trapped between all the layers of packaging in the box. It was small and would have easily blended into the rest of the packaging if it had not shone slightly when it hit the light. McCree hummed and gently picked up the object out of the box, holding it up and inspecting it. It was a shot glass, which on it’s own would’ve been insignificant if not for the fact that he’d broken this very same shot glass the first night Hanzo and him ever drank together.

The two of them had a rough start to say the least. An attempted night of pleasantry and bonding over a love of drink, quickly devolved into a shouting match when both parties purposely riled the other, ending with McCree slamming his hand onto the table and shattering the shot glass in the process. The fact that he was still wearing his gloves was the only thing that saved him a lecture from Angela and an awkward half hour in the Infirmary. McCree never knew what happened to the shot glass and had just assumed it’d been tossed in the trash in it’s ruined state, but here it was. It was clearly carefully glued together with a lot of time and patience, but there were still cracks and chips where there was glass missing, and tucked inside was a piece of paper.

The handwriting was unmistakably Hanzo’s although more jittery and sloppy than usual, and a dubious stain on the paper that smelled faintly of alcohol firmly decided the sobriety of it’s writer.

_“Jesse,_

_I know I will not have the courage to say this to you sober, so I am writing this now when I know I will not have the ability to do much of anything at all and therefore not embarrass myself in the face of your inevitably negative reaction. I love you. I have loved you for ages and I fear I will keep loving you for long into the future. You are like the sun and I cannot help but be drawn into your orbit. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you care so deeply and so fully makes me fall endlessly deeper for you. I treasure our friendship for I know this is the only way I will ever get close to you in any meaningful capacity and I would a fool to risk it. You have made me want to be a person deserving of your love, even if it is only platonic. You have looked at my faults and my past and not blinked. You saw me for who I was and dared me to change it. For that I am eternally indebted and grateful. I am like this shot glass, broken and missing some pieces, but still whole. You taught me how to hold myself together and repair what I thought was irreparable. You are always modest when it matters, so I know you would claim these actions are all my own, but I never would have taken that first step if you hadn’t pushed me forward. You are everything I want in my life and I know you could never love me in the way I love you, but if there is a chance, if in some universe you return my affections, I will be waiting. Always._

_-Hanzo.”_

Jesse was stunned to say the least. His mind travelled to the gift still wrapped in his closet and then to the ribbon on the bed. He’d thought about giving the gift at Christmas, pulling Hanzo aside and finally telling him how he felt. He wasn’t going to make a big spectacle of it, just something small that was only for the two of them. In the end, he’d chickened out for the same reasons Hanzo stated in his letter, the chance of ruining the only closeness he may get to the person he adored. He left the gift sitting wrapped in his closet, buried behind old clothing and equipment. He fingered the ribbon for a few moments, before smiling. It was clear Hanzo hadn’t meant to send the letter to him, but it had arrived anyway, as had the gift. He cast his eyes towards his closet, before rising and carefully setting the letter and repaired shot glass on his nightstand.

“Don’t suppose I should keep you waiting much longer.” McCree said to the empty air, then he got to work.

 

Hanzo Shimada was shaken to say the least when he returned from an exhausting three day mission to see a present sitting neatly wrapped on his bed. Something about the gift looked oddly familiar to him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. His brain was a cloudy frazzled mess and his only focus at the moment was getting into bed and sleeping for a week. A seemingly endless firefight had left him low on arrows and patience, and resorted to him having to fall back on his hand to hand combat skills as his position was overrun. He was dirty and tired and the last thing he needed was to perform any form of social interaction that always came along with giving and receiving gifts.

He shook his head, purposely ignoring the bright colored box taking up residence on his bed, and headed for the shower. He grimaced at the grime and blood that was practically caked on after days of endless fighting. The warmth of the shower was a relief as he watch the water slowly turn from a reddish brown back to clear again. By the time he was totally clean he somehow felt even more tired than before. The warmth of the shower had drained the remaining strength out of his bones and he was dead on his feet.

He shoved the gift off the bed, careless of its contents. He could deal with it when he could string a whole sentence together again. He groaned and flopped on the bed, almost passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Whoever had given him this gift could wait another day, maybe a week if he was lucky.

The next time Hanzo woke up he’d felt like an age had passed. His eyes were crusted with sleep and his jaw cracked with a wide yawn. His hand fumbled for his comm with the kind of clumsiness that only oversleeping brings. He squinted, blinking to clear the crust from his eyes, and forcing his eyes to focus on the neon numbers displayed in front of him. A quick check of the date confirmed that’d he’d been asleep for over twelve hours. He groaned as he sat up, body still slightly stiff from over exertion. He swung his legs out of bed and made to stand up, when he felt his foot bump something and heard a small thump as it banged against the night stand. Sitting there, slightly more battered than it had arrived, was the present that was waiting for him. He’d almost forgotten about it completely in his exhaustion.

He picked it up, examining it thoroughly for any name or clue to who had left it there. The wrapping paper was the same drab affair from Christmas a few weeks prior and was nothing to write home about. The box itself was normal in both shape and size, if on the smaller side, and gave nothing away as to its contents. The only thing odd about the whole package was the red ribbon, he knew he’d seen it before but couldn’t quite place it. He unwrapped it from around the box and ran his fingers over it’s smooth texture. That’s when the memory hit him.

It was a week or two ago when he was feeling particularly lonely and insignificant. The cowboy was out off base celebrating a recent victory with the rest of the team. Hanzo had waived his invitation citing a lingering headache that had carried over from a recent cold, that had kept him absent from the mission in question. He did have a lingering headache, but it was nothing so serious that he would’ve refused the invitation, rather he just felt like sulking. He had gotten much better at dealing with his depression over the course of his career at Overwatch thus far, but there were still days where he just felt like wallowing even though he knew it was the exact opposite of what he needed to be doing. So instead drinking a normal amount with all his friends, he got shit-faced drunk alone in his room on the cheapest shit he could find.

He hadn’t remembered much of that night afterwards, but he assumed he had reasonably contained himself and his wallowing to his room. Staring at the red ribbon, wrapped around a box that could fit his missing shot glass, je knew now that was not the case. If not for the fact that he knew some form of response from him would be expected, he would’ve thrown it in the garbage, lit the garbage on fire, sailed into the middle of the ocean, and dumped the ashes there. However, he knew he’d be expected to discuss this with the cowboy despite the answer.

He took a deep breath and tore into the box, not taking the time or care to keep the wrapping paper in tact. He ripped the top lid off the box, but stopped short of throwing it, frozen at the contents that were laid inside. He gently set the lid down next to him and slowly pulled forth a tightly folded shirt. He unfolded and laid it on the bed, taking a moment to read what was written on it, before beginning to laugh, quietly at first and then loudly, almost hysterically.

It was stupid, and not even that funny, but he was almost shaking from the relief of it all. To be expecting immediate rejection and to receive a plain white shirt that simply said ‘Punk is Dad’ on it, felt like the greatest gift in the world at the moment. He picked up the shirt, smiling, it was a plain cheap screen printed thing, but just like how McCree had his cowboy knick-knacks the team gave him, Hanzo had horrible t-shirts. It had started when Hana had returned from Busan and gotten him a horribly translated shirt that made no sense in any language, but everyone thought was funny. It simply snowballed from there. Perhaps it was his deadpan reaction to them, or the fact that he’d actively wear them, or because it had been the first real moment where the ice broke between him and the team, either way, he was the proud owner of a steadily growing collection of questionable t-shirts with questionable slogans.

He set the shirt on the bed, shaking his head, and paused again seeing a note carefully placed in the bottom of the box. Hanzo’s hands were truly shaking as he removed the note and opened it.

_‘Hanzo,_

_This this that universe, this is that chance, meet me on the rooftop. I’ll be waiting. Always._

 - _ _Jesse’__

 

 

McCree turned as he heard the rooftop door open behind him, a wide smiling stretching across his face that was as bright as the sun as he saw who it was.

“Hey sugar.” His voice was soft, like he was afraid the universe would shatter at the very sound of it. Hanzo smiled in return and sat down next to him.

“I enjoyed the shirt. It is very much my aesthetic, as the kids say.” Hanzo said returning McCree’s smile and bumping their hands together in a silent question.

McCree linked their hands together, answering. “I’m a big fan of the squirrel, if we’re being old men one might say it’s lit.”

Hanzo groaned, but the smile never left his face and somehow that made McCree smile even harder. “I was beyond drunk when I made that purchase, but I am glad he has found a good home.”

“Figured you were.” McCree brought their joined hands up and pressed a light kiss to Hanzo’s palm. “Gotta say I’ve never been more happy you were drunk in my whole life. Lord knows both of us have had to many good things stripped from us to make the first move.”

Hanzo hummed in agreement, looking down at their hands, “The gifts were excellent jokes, but this is...this is serious, correct?”

“As a heart attack, honey.”

Hanzo looked up at McCree, meeting his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. A small smile graced his face once again, at whatever he discovered there.

“Would you be opposed to one more gift?” Hanzo leaned in, pausing just short of halfway.

“From you, never.” McCree met him in the middle.

Their lips crashed together and it was messy and uncoordinated, but so full of joy it was unmistakable. The two of them pulled away to breath and the smiles on their faces were almost identical. Bright and wide and never faltering.

The two sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the happiness and relief that reciprocation always brings, until McCree turned to face Hanzo slightly better, breaking the silence.

“Hey, Hanzo?”

“Yes, McCree?”

“Knock knock.”

Hanzo sighed sounding put out, but it was clear there was no malice in it, “Who’s there?”

“Olive.” McCree’s grin was the epitome of cheekiness.

“Olive, who.”

“Olive you and I don’t care who knows it.”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Hanzo said deadpan as he stood up walking away from McCree, but making sure to toss a sly smile over his shoulder, not willing to ruin the moment with misunderstanding.

“Aw babe, come back. I think you’re suffering from a lack of vitamin me.”

Hanzo groaned but it faded into a laugh and he pulled McCree up from a sitting position.

“You’re ridiculous.” Hanzo never wanted to stop smiling, never wanted this to end.

“I know you are but what am I?” McCree never wanted to stop smiling, never wanted this to end.

“Mine.” Hanzo beamed as he leaned in and stole a kiss from a slightly stunned McCree. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Punk is Dad t-shirt is real and I own it.
> 
> That was also the worst joke title I could think of. You're Welcome.
> 
> (Not my best work but not my worst. Merry late Christmas and Happy late New Year! I'm gonna write more stuff just because I liked it and not because it's perfect, and I liked this.)


End file.
